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FATEby Susan Marr Spalding (1841-1908)

FATEAuthor: by Susan Marr Spalding (1841-1908)

Two shall be born the whole wide world apartAnd speak in different tongues, and take no thoughtEach of the other's being, and no heed.And these, o'er unknown seas to unknown lands shall cross,Escaping wreck, defying death,And all unconsciously shape every actAnd bend each wandering step unto this end That one day out of darkness they shall meet andRead life's meaning in each other's eyes.

And two shall walk some narrow way of lifeSo nearly side by side that, should one turnEver so little to left or right,They needs must stand acknowledged, face to face.And yet with wistful eyes that never meetAnd groping hands that never clasp and lipsCalling in vain to ears that never hear,They seek each other all their weary daysAnd die unsatisfied. And this is Fate!

THE MORE LOVING ONEby W. H. Auden (1907—1973)

THE MORE LOVING ONEAuthor: by W. H. Auden (1907—1973)

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well thatFor all they care I can go to hell.But on earth indifference is the least we have to Dread from man or beast.How should we like it were stars to burn withA passion for us we could not return?If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I amOf stars that do not give a damn,I cannot now I see them say I missed one Terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,I should learn to look at an empty skyAnd feel its total dark sublime,Though this might take a little time.

HOW DO I LOVE THEE?by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861)

HOW DO I LOVE THEE?Author: by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for right.I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears of all my life; and if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.

Heart, we will forget him,You and I, tonight!You must forget the warmth he gave,I will forget the light.

When you have done pray tell me,Then I my thoughts will dim.Haste! lest while you’re laggingI may remember him!

INDEED I CANNOT TELLby Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)

INDEED I CANNOT TELLAuthor: by Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)

Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell, though I ponder on it well,Which were easier to state, all my love or all my hate.Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me when I say Thou dost disgust me.

O, I hate thee with a hate that would fain annihilate;Yet sometimes against my will, my dear friend I love thee still.It were treason to our love and a sin to God above,One iota to abate of a pure impartial hate.